


Fight for our Lives

by Hanna



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Child in a warzone, Gen, No Shepard story, Reaper besieged London
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanna/pseuds/Hanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natalie is an orphan in Reaper besieged London, struggling to survive in a war where even children must become casualties or soldiers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight for our Lives

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The song ‘So Cold’ by Breaking Benjamin is totally Natalie and Erik’s theme song- I reckon it’d be the ideal theme song of Reaper besieged planets, and any soldiers fighting. That totally sets the mood.
> 
> Also, I chose the control ending at random- I asked mum to choose red, green or blue as I couldn't decide. She chose blue.
> 
> Please comment to tell me what you think- I always welcome feedback :)

**Fight for our Lives**

He could hear the tinny sound of gunfire behind a large pile of rubble. Rising, he wiped the sweat off his brow and ran to find the source. If the Reapers invaded here… but he soon realised it was just a pair of kids. Small footsteps could be heard as he approached the children and two young voices quarrelled.

“No way, Danny,” a girl was saying. “That was my kill.”

“Was not,” the boy called Danny retorted and one of them made an immature noise. He slowed and smiled as a pistol fell to the floor and a childish cry of rage emanated from the girl, who ran at her friend and tackled him. The skirmish attracted the notice of another soldier, who looked questioningly at him, and the two fell suddenly silent on hearing his booted footsteps.

The boy climbed to his feet, daring him silently to tell him off, eyes defiant. The girl, wearing a ratty jacket with the name ‘Waters’ scrawled on the left side in a clear imitation of military uniforms, scrambled to her feet and grabbed the fallen pistol, shoving it in her pocket- after carefully making sure the safety was on, he noticed. She’d handled it before. Her eyes were wide.

“Sir!” she exclaimed, saluting in a carefully measured way, glancing guiltily up at him.

“Relax, Waters,” he said and a grin touched her lips. “What are you doing?” She indicated a row of broken bottles and pieces of tech set up on the wall.

“Target practise,” she said earnestly. “Got to be ready when the Reapers come.” His heart broke to see kids so young playing soldier. Damn the Reapers. He examined the targets and nodded approvingly. They’d made a few good shots. Likely her shots; it was clear she was the one who was motivated to do this. The boy still looked shell-shocked; she had determination in her eyes and face and he realised she’d make a hell of a soldier.

“Nice shooting,” he complimented and she fairly glowed.

“Thank you, sir!” Waters exclaimed. “My mum’s a soldier and I want to join the Alliance when I’m old enough so I have to practise.”

“Practise where we can see you,” he told them. She nodded enthusiastically and patted the pistol in her pocket before gathering their targets in her arms and following him out, the boy trailing after her.

XX

He saw her later hunting for ammunition amongst the rubble, cradling her pistol in one hand. “Here,” he said, handing some of his to her. “What’s your name?”

“Thanks,” she said, looking earnestly up at him as she reloaded it, struggling a little. She could be no more than eight, surely, but it was clear she’d lost someone. Her eyes were shadowed and determined. “Natalie, sir.”

“I’m David,” he told her. “Where’s your friend?” She shrugged.

“I don’t know. He left a little while ago. Said he was sick of playing soldier. But we can’t just stop fighting with the Reapers here.” He sat on a piece of rubble and indicated she should sit beside him. She scrambled up and sat down too, putting the pistol in her pocket. He grimaced. What if it went off?

“Whose is that?” he asked, pointing to the gun.

“My dad’s,” she replied. “It’s pretty new- he got it when he joined the militia. After he...” she broke off and his heart went out to her. “Well, it’s mine now.”

“Didn’t your father have a holster?” he asked.

“It was ruined. I couldn’t salvage it.” His mind flashed to the meagre requisition stock they had, and the intact pistol holster he was sure he’d seen.

“You said your mum was Alliance?” he asked after a moment to clarify her parental situation. She nodded, her grimy blonde hair sticking to her cheek.

“Yes sir. She’s navy- second fleet- and was away when the Reapers hit.” He tried to recall the status of Second fleet- last he’d heard, it was defending Arcturus. “She taught me how to handle this,” she added, holding the pistol up. “Said I needed to know how to protect myself.”

“Can I take a look?” She handed him the pistol and he weighed it in his hand. It was a good weight, a Carnifex he thought. Not very well maintained, though. Unsurprising, given that an eight year old girl owned it. Even if her mum was Alliance, she couldn’t have taught her everything, or expected that her daughter would have to become a soldier or casualty in war.

“Come here,” he said, handing it back. He rose and she hopped up too, holding it with a grubby hand protectively as she followed him to the command centre where a weapons bench was set up. He showed her how to use the bench and she craned her neck to see over it. He found her a piece of rubble and put it down for her to stand on.

“You have to keep it well maintained, okay? Here, let me show you.” He demonstrated how to pull apart and clean his and she watched with rapt attention.

“Your turn,” he said.

“Daniels!” someone called and he looked around to see his superior. He nodded at him and turned back to Natalie.

“Can I leave you here for a bit?” he asked and she nodded, tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth with concentration as she pulled the pistol apart. He clapped her on the shoulder and walked away.

“Good girl. Hey, Smith, can you keep an eye on her, help her out?” he asked as he passed Jane Smith. She nodded and went over to Natalie as he went to Major Johnson.

“Sir.”

“Who’s she?” Johnson asked and he glanced at Natalie.

“She lost her father to the Reapers and her mother serves in the Navy. The pistol was about to fall apart, and I thought...” he trailed off and shrugged. Johnson was smiling slightly.

“Alright, Daniels. Keep her out of important stuff and she can come in and service her weapon.”

“Yes, sir,” he said and saluted.

“Oh, and Daniels?”

“Sir?”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Johnson said. “There are too many orphans.” He smiled at the Major.

“Thank you, sir.”

XX

Natalie became something of a mascot to the base after that. She was often to be found doing target practise with the soldiers, who gave her pointers on how to improve her aim, working on hand to hand combat with Smith and others and shadowing the base. Eventually she took to sleeping inside and no one complained. The person distributing rations made a point to give her ration packs like any soldier. Someone joked they ought to put her on the pay roster when this was all over, and Johnson nodded thoughtfully and said he’d see to it. She started doing unofficial sentry duty with the soldiers- they even rostered her on to help out with safer posts.

Once they found a decent jacket, not too wrecked, and gave it to her, with a name badge made just for her sewn on. It came down to her knees, but she instantly hugged it around her and started using it as a blanket. Her sleeves were rolled up so many times it wasn’t funny, but she refused to let anyone doctor it fit her. A piece of cloth served as a belt to hold it around her waist. The man minding the supplies gifted her with the holster, and from then on it hung off her makeshift belt. They scratched her name on a piece of scrap metal with the edges rounded off and gave it to her on a piece of leather as a dog tag.

“We’ll get you proper ones made once this is all over,” David promised as he put it around her neck and she threw her arms around him.

In return, she brought ammo, gun mods and broken pieces of tech from the rubble to the base, things which could be appropriated into functional things. Anything was useful during this war. She also proved to be quite an adept hand with technology. She could tinker with most things and get them working again, or find the working parts within them. Quickly she became known as the person for gun cleaning; her lithe little fingers could get into places the soldiers couldn’t reach properly. Installing pistol mods became second nature to her very fast. So she was allowed to upgrade to shotguns with supervision, and then assault rifles, though she only learned to shoot the pistol. Other guns had too much kick, and the soldiers wouldn’t let her near them.

Her friend, Danny, shadowed the base sometimes too, but he only came to visit Natalie. The visits weren’t frequent; no one knew why. Natalie thought it was because he didn’t like violence, and wasn’t too bothered. He’d be alright, she said. He was being looked after.

One day when he was visiting, a few husks attacked the base with a banshee. Natalie and Danny were playing in the rubble just out of line of sight of the base.

They were alerted when Danny screamed. Gunfire sounded and a few soldiers grabbed their weapons and ran towards it. A husk, clearly recognisable as human, still in the process of becoming huskified, was bearing down on the children, and Natalie was firing at it, hands shaking. It kept coming; she droped her pistol and screamed.

Three shotgn blasts took care of it. Then they heard a deathly scream. Natalie flinched, diving instinctively for cover.

“Banshee,” Johnson cursed. “Men, with me! Daniels, get the kids inside and keep them there!” David ran for the kids, where Natalie had dropped her gun and was futilely trying to shift the rubble. He bent and picked the pistol up, slipping it into his pocket, and gently pushed Natalie away. She clung to the rubble, tears running down her cheeks.

“I’ve got it, Nat.” She looked up at him, pale as a ghost, and nodded before stepping away. He put his shoulder into it and prepared to push the rubble up. “Nat, when I lift it, drag Danny out,” he ordered. She nodded and moved to Danny’s head, put her hands under his arms. “Ready. One, two, three!” He shoved up and Natalie strained to pull her friend out. He slid away and when he was free David dropped the slab with an almighty crash before taking Danny in his arms.

“Get to the base,” he told Natalie. “I’ve got him.” She gazed worriedly up at Danny then nodded, fleeing for the base as another deathly wail sounded, gunfire accompanying it.

David lay Danny on a slab and looked him over. His head was bleeding from the temple and his leg was bloody.

“Get a cloth- clean his head,” he told Natalie and she ripped some off her shirt without thinking, dabbing it gingerly at her friend’s head. Blood soon soaked through it.

“Are you alright?” he asked her as he gently washed the blood off the boy’s leg to see the damage. Face set, she nodded.

“Fine,” she said, but her voice and hands were shaking and she sounded close to tears. Determinedly she wiped at the head wound, not looking at him, and he dropped it.

XX

Danny had been taken to one of the meagre hospitals, and Natalie was hugging her knees as she sat on a slab of rubble. Jane tried to talk to her but she was silent. Johnson tried to talk to her, but she didn’t acknowledge his presence.

David then sat down and handed her her pistol.

She stared at it, glassy eyed, for a long moment, and finally took it, slipping it in her holster.

“He’ll be fine,” David said and she just stared ahead, arms wrapped around her coat. They sat in silence.

XX

Natalie still stayed in the base, but now she had forgone all military activities. None of the soldiers blamed her; they knew she was a civilian, and a child to boot, though it was easy to forget. Johnson’s party had come back minus two men. They’d brought their dog tags back, leaving them near the weapons bench. One day, Johnson saw her turning Riley’s over in her hand.

“Why are they doing this?” she asked, looking up at him, and he shrugged as he squatted beside her.

“I don’t know, kid,” he said. She stared at Riley’s dog tags.

“It looked so human,” she whispered, finally. “It stared down at us, and it had human eyes.” Tears filled her eyes and she was starting to shake again. Johnson reached forward to take her hand.

“It wasn’t human, Natalie,” he said. She turned her face into his shoulder and sobbed, clutching Riley’s dog tags tight.

XX

The news came that Danny was okay. He could walk, slowly and with a stick, but he could still walk. If it hadn’t been for David’s emergency first aid, the messenger said, things could have been much worse. Natalie collapsed with relief and he went over to her.

“Daniel told us what you did,” he said. “You saved his life, Natalie.” She looked up at him. “That husk would have killed him.” She nodded once, and he squeezed her hand. Then turned and left. She rose, pulled her pistol from her holster and went to the weapons bench, pulling it apart and carefully cleaning it.

XX

There was no more laughter in the base. Danny came back once to thank Natalie, left quickly, and never returned. Natalie had dreadful nightmares, from which she woke sobbing. She took to target practise and hand to hand again. People rarely spoke. They didn’t need to. They were all soldiers. A few more base incursions were repelled, they lost a few more men. Natalie took one of each of their dog tags they’d been able to recover and threaded hem onto her leather necklace. A memorial, she said, so she never forgot. Soldiers wrote letters to friends and family which would never be sent. Death loomed over them, and they all prepared for it.

Weeks passed this way, then months. They received few reinforcements. The turians had come to Earth, the news said, but they didn’t come to their base. The krogan had arrived, word of mouth continued, but they never saw any. The quarian liveships sent food and water to them. The Alliance sent what technology they could. It wasn’t top notch, but they had engineers to fix it and improve it. One of these things was a communicator.

Soldiers were frantically trying to reach family. Most were dead ends. No one was sure if that meant they were dead or just didn’t have access to communication. They hoped it was the latter. Some chose not to contact family; they didn’t want the crushing disappointment of not being able to.

Natalie couldn’t get in contact with her mother in the fleet, though she tried. She visibly tried not to cry, and David put a hand on her shoulder. She shook him off.

They managed to last four months.

The day of reckoning came when a Reaper landed right outside their base. Everyone looked up at it, and they readied their weapons. They were not going to run.

They might die here, but they were going to take the bastard down with them.

The first wave was of husks. They lost one man. Marauders followed them; three went down to them, including Smith. Banshees came next, and two men were killed. Finally the Brutes were released. Two rushed at them, and Natalie (who had been shooting from the base door) came out carrying a Cain.

Johnson grinned, ruffled her hair, and took it.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and handed her his assault rifle. She struggled with the weight for a second before balancing it carefully, shot at the oncoming husks as Johnson raised the Cain and aimed for the Reaper.

“Eat this, you bastard,” he breathed, and released.

The rocket flew through the air towards the sentient ship, and collided with it. Everything went up in a brilliant explosion. Natalie was knocked off her feet, the rifle flying out of her hand, and a slab of rubble crashed towards her. Closing her eyes, she smiled.

XX

People were moving around her, and she vaguely heard beeping. Forcing her eyes open, she saw she was in a hospital. Voices grew clearer.

“…lucky. If she hadn’t…”

“…blown into a ditch. Only her leg…”

“…burns. We can heal them…”

“…Sergeant on top of her… brunt of the…”

She opened her mouth, coughed harshly, and the two people- an asari and a human- turned to her.

“What happened?” she choked out. Pity filled their features and her face hardened. She didn’t want their pity. She hated their pity.

“The Sergeant managed to destroy the Brutes, but the Reaper got away,” the human said and dismay filled her.

“No,” she whispered.

“The whole unit is dead. I’m sorry.”

An alarm sounded; the human hurried away. The asari stayed with her, sat beside her bed.

“Where are your parents?” she asked. Natalie shook her head and winced. It hurt to move. The blue woman sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “When you recover, you’ll come to the orphanage-”

“No.” She blinked, surprised.

“No?” Natalie shook her head again, more firmly, ignoring the pain.

“I’m going to fight.” The asari shook her head, looking disapproving.

“You’ve already done too much of that,” she tutted, frowning. “I insist you come to the orphanage.” Natalie’s eyes blazed.

“Where’s my stuff?” she asked. The asari indicated a small pile beside her bed. She turned and sat determinedly. It hurt like nothing else; but she managed. The jacket was burned almost beyond recognition, as was the holster, but her dog tags were still readable. Her gun wasn’t there.

“My pistol,” she said. The asari looked uncomfortable.

“Lie down,” she insisted. “You have to lie down.”

“Where is my pistol?”

“You have to lie down,” the asari said again and rose. “Lie down, Natalie.”

“Give me my pistol.”

“No weapons allowed in the hospital. Do lie down.” She pushed at her shoulder. Natalie resisted.

“Get me a pistol.”

“I’ll be back later, Natalie, to check on you,” the asari said and left. Natalie collapsed onto the bed, closed her hand around her dog tags and met the eyes of the soldier across the room, who grimaced sympathetically at her.

“I’ve been asking for days,” he said. “No luck yet.” Natalie glared at the door.

XX

She dreamed that night about David blowing up, Jane being torn apart by Marauders, and Johnson being stomped on by a Brute. The Husk she’d attacked to protect Danny was suddenly Riley, and she couldn’t stop shooting in time, and he screamed as he bled out on the ground. She looked down at Danny, and saw that he was a Husk too, reaching for her. When she looked at her hands, clasped around the barrel of her pistol, they were dead and huskified…

She screamed shrilly, jerking awake, tears streaming down her cheeks. The asari rushed in, and said that this was why children should never go to war as she tucked her in again, smoothing her hair. She slapped her hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” she snarled. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Tsking, the asari shook her head and reached down to her again, when the soldier in the other bed barked at her.

“Hands off!” Surprised, she looked up. He was glaring at her.

“She told you not to touch her.”

Flustered, the asari left the room, and Natalie’s and the soldier’s eyes met.

“Natalie Waters.”

“Erik Vangien.”

XX

Natalie and Erik did not talk about the war, about the people they’d lost, or about their families. They didn’t speak of weapons, of destruction. This eliminated most topics, and the rest were deemed too frivolous to warrant wasting breath on.

Silence reigned. They received a few roommates, shell-shocked civilians or other veterans. A child who wouldn’t stop crying stayed for a few days. Whenever he screamed, Erik and Natalie both reached for weapons they didn’t have anymore instinctively. Erik was soon released and went back to the battlefield; Natalie was released a week later and taken to the orphanage by the asari.

She sat in a corner silently, practised hand to hand with some of the older kids, sharing silence with them as if it was a precious commodity. The younger children cried for their parents, and Natalie told them to stop crying; their parents were dead and there was nothing they could do about it. The orphanage comforted the children and told her off, and she retreated back to the corner.

Other children who had fought and lost arrived, and they were admitted silently into the solidarity of young veterans. They unnerved the staff. They stared into the distance and understood each other without having to speak. They woke with nightmares, and didn’t let them comfort them. Instead they turned over and closed their eyes again.

The youngest veteran was six; the oldest was twelve. They shared the meagre food they had evenly, with military precision and discipline. They moved as a unit, woke early in the morning. They took turns watching the door, swapping shifts every few hours.

The staff tried to dissuade them, to interest them in other things, and get them to talk, but to no avail. They even tried to separate them by putting them into different groups, but every meal they banded together again, with the cohesion of a proper military unit.

This came in handy one day when the Reapers attacked the orphanage. The two soldiers who happened to be there were outnumbered by husks, so when three more shooters joined them they were grateful. It was only when they reached for their sidearms that they realised they were gone, and their support were orphanage children. Others were grouped around the attendants and younger kids as protection. The orphanage had a few weapons as defence, and one of those pistols was casually at the side of Natalie, helping defend the other kids.

After the attack was repelled, the grateful soldiers found out that while their three helpers had fought out front, other kids had barricaded doors, fed ammo to the defenders and helped keep the children safe. The next shipment of supplies included as many pistols as could be spared, with strict instructions that what they had dubbed the ‘Little Menace’ unit have access to them at all times.

Not long later, Natalie, and two of the pistols, were gone.

XxX

Many soldiers saw a little girl trekking through the rubble. Some called out to her. Others tried to follow her. She acknowledged them all but never stopped for them. Some said she had a soldiers' eyes; others claimed the set of her shoulders and jaw meant she had a mission. She stopped in at some bases to eat and sleep but refused to tell them what she was doing all alone and was always gone the next morning. Silently she cleaned her pistols at workbenches and on flat rocks and scavenged for ammo in the rubble. Word spread about her hand people started keeping an eye out. She proved to be surprisingly good with her pistols, taking down husks alone and helping to repel base incursions, assisting civilians, but never staying anywhere.

Finally, she found what she was looking for.

The base was just rubble and bore the unnmistakeable signs of a Reaper landing atop it. But she smiled on seeing it and crawled inside the little remaining shelter, curling up to sleep, a pistol in each hand. The next day she searched the rubble and came out with three dogtags. She threaded them onto the leather necklace she wore, where they were unremarkable as they clattered against the dozen others.

She stayed at the base for three days, stocking up on food and ammo, before moving on and not looking back.

XxX

Erik Vangien had just closed his eyes to sleep when Yung woke him.

"Vangien," Yung said. "You must come." Yawning, he rose and followed him, grabbing his gun.

"Husks?" he asked. Yung shook his head.

"No threat," was all he would say. Curious, and a little annoyed at having his rest interrupted, he was silent until he saw the child. She was skinny and dirty but he recognised her.

"Natalie?" he asked in amazement.

XxX

Natalie stayed at the base as long as Erik was there. When he moved on she went with him. He did not make her go back to the orphanage, though others tried to tell him he should.

"She’s already escaped once," he said firmly. “I’m not sending her back. At least this way I can keep an eye on her.” Eventually they stopped arguing. She remained at the base when he was on patrol, but sat at the door watching for his return. She remained distant to the other soldiers. Erik shared his rations with her.

One day his patrol returned without him.

"Sorry, kid," was all the head of the patrol had to say to her unasked question. She took one pistol in hand, secured the other on her belt, and set off into the rubble without a word.

XxX

She searched for hours for the barely alive Erik, and summoned help when she finally found him. He was taken to hospital and she back to the orphanage. When he was let out weeks later, he told the asari he was here to release his daughter- tears filled her eyes and she flew into his arms. She didn't stop crying for a long time, in which he rocked her back and forth, whispering to her, stroking her filthy hair. He shooed the asari who came to help away, hoisted the girl in his arms, and carried her away.

XxX

When the blue wave swept over them, they were fleeing from a Brute. They only stopped running when they realised it wasn't chasing them anymore and its heavy footsteps were retreating. Panting in exhaustion, clutching each other for dear life, they stared in amazement as the Reapers lifted off and just flew away. Then they collapsed and knew no more.

They later learned that the Reapers were gone, their footsoldiers had attacked each other in a frenzy and the survivors thrown themselves over rubble and into the sea, so desperate they apparently were to escape life, and that Shepard was dead, but they were so astonished to be alive they couldn't have cared less what had happened.

Survivors had to be picked from the rubble, which was very slowly cleared. First from the most vital areas- roads and hospitals- and then from other, less vital, places. People trickled out of the rubble in clumps of two or three, bedraggled, exhausted, afraid, and found places to sleep. Society slowly got back on its feet- a few teachers set up classes in a mostly cleared building for the children, hospitals gradually emptied as they let their surviving patients into the world again, and rolls were called. Military units tried to catalogue their losses; families searched frantically for information on their missing loved ones; friends picked through the rubble, looking for their missing.

So many were missing- so few were found.

Erik made inquiries about Second Fleet, only to find it had been decimated. On hearing the news, Natalie burst into tears and held him tight. He hugged her and refused to let her go. If both her parents were dead, that meant he was her caretaker. It was a role he took with pride- he’d come to regard her as something of a daughter. She deserved a normal childhood, and he’d give her one if it was the last thing he did.

Erik and Natalie left London, and their bad memories, behind them. They moved into the country, found a house that wasn’t too damaged, and repaired it as best they could. They lived in isolation, wanting little to do with the world, wanting only to lick their wounds. Erik taught Natalie to read better and write better, and she started tinkering with electronics, trying to fix or improve things, as a way of dealing with her nightmares. She was very good at it.

As time passed, the nightmares slowed. A settlement grew nearby them and a school started up. Natalie insisted on attending, and dedicated herself to her studies. She made friends, slowly, friends who helped her enjoy things children should. During the evening, she often was to be found watching the sunset with the eyes of a veteran seeking peace.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it,” she said one day when Erik came out to get her. “That it still exists.” She gestured to the sunset, and he looked up at it too. He nodded and smiled.

“It is,” he agreed. “C’mon, Nat. Time for bed.” He reached down to take her hand. She rose and hugged him.

“I love you, Erik,” she said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too, Nat.” He took her hand, led her inside, and shut the door behind them.


End file.
